


hurt people hurt people too

by The_raven_that_never_calls



Series: Dust & Gold [6]
Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: Camelot and Library headcannons, Charlene and Jenkins are bros, F/M, Gen, Spoilers for 4X05, The Civil War (the Librarians), The Dark Ages (the Librarians), headcannons ahead, in which the writer indulges, spoilers for 3X09
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-02-28 06:30:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13265673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_raven_that_never_calls/pseuds/The_raven_that_never_calls
Summary: "You are the bravest, boldest, most loyal knight I have ever known," Charlene tells him, kissing his cheek.It's not a lie, they both know, but it's not quite true.-or-The tale of the Guardian and the "Custodian"-or-How the Grail Knight became Jenkins and (eventually) became the Caretaker





	1. prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe someone will write a tragedy about them someday. A six act play or something...

The end is really just like the beginning. (Messy and foolish and stupid.)

It is out of the storybooks and the fantasies that Lancelot helped spin when he waxed nostalgic over Camelot sometime in the 17th century. It's picturesque in the worst kind of way, for Galahad—well, Jenkins, always ended up looking like the very picture of heartbreak.

"Charlene. The sun still rises and sets in your eyes. Your soul is the only place I have ever found peace..."

"Oh, Galahad, please don't." Charlene hushes him. He loves her, she knows, in the same way he once loved Morgan... Well maybe not quite as much. Or right now. Or _ever_. (For one, she’s pretty positive he never told Morgan anything half as cheesy as _that_.) For all of his vices, Jenkins never lies, but he's not great at telling the truth and _nothing_ but the truth.

Charlene knows _exactly_ who he picked that up from.

(There’s _always_ an endgame with him.)

It's odd, really, to see him like this again after so many years—broken, lonely, shattered. He's not the same boy that she had met all those years ago, but he's not quite the man that she knew he could be.

It's a pity to watch such a pure soul descend into its own personal hell. 

He would have made a good Librarian. Once.

He would have made a good Guardian too. (At least before attaining the Holy Grail.)

"You are the bravest, boldest, most loyal knight I have ever known," she tells him, kissing his cheek. It's not a lie, they both know, but it's not quite true. "You would've made a fine Librarian. But still my heart belongs to someone else. And that is who I must return to now."

He knows. He always does. (His eyes looked at her as if she was a dead woman walking the moment she returned home.)

"Yes. I understand." He sighs heavily. "It's just... well, it sucks."

"I know." (Just like it sucked when she lost Judson.)

(Just like it sucked when he lost _her._ )

—

She can hear the children twittering.

—

—

If only they knew half of it.

—

—


	2. act I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Charlene and Galahad meet

**scene i.**

She first meets him when he is young, still handsome, still whole. It's a routine visit by Merlin who's dropping off the latest confiscated magical weapons and artifacts. Galahad is his escort at Arthur's insistence. After all, the aging sorcerer is getting up in his years, and Arthur doesn’t want to lose his most-trusted companion and greatest wizard over a milk run.

Galahad hovers by Merlin's side—close but not too close—to watch over the sorcerer. He certainly doesn't seem to mind being reduced from a knight to a common servant boy, and he listens to her instructions without complaint.

"I'm Galahad," he says to her with an easy smile, after insisting Merlin take a well-deserved break. "Pleasure to meet you, Guardian." He leans down to kiss her hand for an appropriate amount of time. (Even so, out of the corner of her eye, she can see Judson stiffen.)

She notices first that he's the only knight to properly address her by who she is and not what. (If she gets called 'my lady' again, she has half a mind to smack them upside the head. She is a lady, but she isn't _theirs._ )

Still, he reminds her too much of Lancelot—and Lancelot, for all his skill with the sword and way with words, is and will always be a Grade-A ass. (Her assessment isn’t entirely wrong—Merlin later tells him that the boy was the prick’s squire.)

"Unfortunately, I can’t say the same,” Charlene replies coolly, swiping her hand away. (Judson, she notices, breathes a little easier.) 

Most men would be upset at the rejection, but Galahad’s smile never falters.

His eyes are shining. “Hopefully I can prove you wrong.”

“I hate boot-lickers,” she says, rolling her eyes, and returns to her rightful place by Judson’s side.

—

—

**scene ii.**

“Need help with that?” Galahad asks as she’s trying to replace a book on the top shelf. “May I?” He holds out a hand for the book. Because her back’s been hurting, Charlene reluctantly relents and gives him the damn book. (It’s not her fault that she’s not as spry as she was a couple hundred years ago.) The boy replaces it on the shelf easily, sliding the book back into its rightful place.

“Thank you,” Charlene says begrudgingly.

He grins. “My pleasure.”

“Is it really?” She raises an eyebrow. Boys of his age probably have different things in mind when they think about their pleasure. Galahad, on his part, remains the same, his expression unchanging.

(Maybe the reason that she doesn’t trust him is because his smile is too bright to be real.)

“I do stuff like this all the time.” Galahad picks up the stack of books Charlene has been lugging around and begins to return them to their proper home on the shelf. “It’s really no trouble.”

As much as Charlene doesn’t trust the boy, she isn’t about to turn down free, high-quality work. “I still don’t like boot-lickers, you know,” she calls over her shoulder as she leaves him to it. 

Galahad laughs. “I know.”

—

—

Still, he helps her and Judson with their work whenever Merlin takes a break, smile bright (too bright to be real), eyes shining.

It might not be real, Charlene decides, but it’s real enough.

—

—

**scene iii.**

“This is amazing!” Galahad is bustling around, analyzing the newest artifact from some corner of the world and examining it under the careful supervision of the current Librarian Marcus. “It seems to have a formula of some sort to minimize magic usage and maximize damage output.”

He and Merlin begin to endlessly talk shop about the implications of the artifact or another before Galahad whips out a small silver hand mirror and starts bouncing ideas off the woman who answers on the other side. He’s grinning as he snarks with her on whether to focus on power or safety, and this time, Charlene knows for sure that his smile is _real_.

“Get the weights,” Charlene murmurs in Judson’s ear. “If he talks any longer, I swear he’s going to fly away with happiness.”

She fights back the urge to gag at the exchange. (For all of their obvious intelligence, the two of them obviously haven’t fully understood the meaning of _discretion._ )

Judson snickers behind his hand. "They're children," Judson reminds her gently. 

To her and Judson, perhaps, but to the rest of the world, they’re basically adults.

Charlene corrects, "They're _fools_."

Judson reaches out and intertwines their fingers. "We were like them once."

"Once." She harrumphs begrudgingly. "Then we wizened up some."

"We're still together, aren't we?" He raises an eyebrow.

Charlene rolls her eyes affectionately, drawing meaningless circles on the back of his hand. "I did say _some_ , didn’t I?"

Judson laughs.

—

—

“I thought you were supposed to be more interested in swords, boot-licker,” Charlene calls as the boy is forced to stop mid-debate and take a much-needed breath for air.

Galahad looks at her and his smile fades. (And in this moment, it hurts to look at him, it _hurts_ , because she recognizes those jaded eyes.) “Swords may win battles, but magic wins wars,” he says solemnly, “and war is coming.”

—

—

**scene iv.**

He’s right…almost.

War comes and is barely averted.

The Reynes Kingdom of the elves, in their arrogance, had decided to expand its territory into Camelot’s, only to be beaten back, though not without damages on both sides. Charlene had been up to her neck in paperwork, for it’s the Library’s responsibility to try to sort this matter out between the two kingdoms.

“Thus, based on the accords in Section 2, subsection 4, part D, you are in violation of the conclave’s decision, and we are legally able to bring down the entire force of the Library upon your kingdom,” Galahad says cheerfully.

Charlene and the newest Librarian Marcus exchange glances, both of them internally screaming at the idea of the _Library,_ a very much **_neutral_** party in the magical community, going to war.

Galahad’s smile sharpens into a smirk. “Now, as much as I’m sure Camelot would love a good fight, we are civilized people in a very uncivilized world. An alternative to this impending conflict would be for damages to be paid to Camelot in reparations for endangering the lives of our citizens.”

“Merlin?” Judson, as the arbiter, prompts. “Anything you’d like to add?”

Merlin looks up from the spell book he’s writing, glances at Galahad, and then jabs a gnarled finger at the young knight in question. “What he said.”

“We attacked _dragons_ and _selkies_!” The more aggressive of the two Reynes Kingdom’s representative protests, seething. “They’re nothing more than uncivilized beasts!”

Galahad’s expression tightens. “They are citizens of Camelot that are under our protection.”

“I expected nothing more from a kingdom run by those half-breed abominations.” The elf haughtily scoffs, cracking his knuckles. “We of the Reynes Kingdom are far more powerful than any little mortal like you could ever hope to be.”

“Don’t underestimate us. You don’t know _who_ you’re trifling with.” Galahad stands to his full height, dwarfing the representative in shadow. His eyes burn hotter than dragon fire. “You _will_ lose.”

“Confident, are we?” The elf smirks, rising from his seat. He jabs Galahad’s chest. “How’s this? I’ll agree to your terms if you can defeat me in a duel. If I win, Camelot will be ours.”

“Merlin?” Galahad looks at the sorcerer for permission. Appropriate, Charlene thinks, considering that Merlin is technically the official Camelot representative—in name, anyway.

“Stop stalling and beat the bloke already,” Merlin says without glancing up from his work. “I want to be back at Camelot in time for dinner.”

Galahad’s incisors glitter. “As you wish.”

—

—

“Aren’t you just a _little_ concerned for the boy?” Charlene asks Merlin as the delegation mills around and waits for the duel to start. “That elf is one of the greatest warriors the Reynes Kingdom has produced.”

“Careful, Charlene.” Merlin raises an eyebrow, snickering behind his hand. “For a moment, I thought you were worried about him.”

“As if.” Charlene rolls her eyes. “I’m just worried about the mess he’s going to leave.”

“Well, Galahad’s ‘supposedly’ the greatest knight in the world.” Merlin shrugs. “Besides, he’s Morgan le Fay’s personal knight…” Merlin’s lip twitches at a memory that Charlene clearly isn’t privy to. “I think he’ll be fine.”

Merlin finally returns his spell book to his robes, looking down as the duel begins. Judson somehow has been roped in as the referee.

The elf rushes forward, blade brandished. He launches a volley of spells toward Galahad, racing toward the knight with all the force of a falling star. Galahad’s smile hasn’t wavered once as he unsheathes his sword. His blade is a blur, as the spells burst into harmless dust and gold.

In the dust, Charlene can see the elf lunge for Galahad’s undefended back. The knight spins around, his blade parrying the elf, sending sparks flying through the air. His foot rises up, smashing the elf in the face and sending the representative flying away. The elf retreats out of Galahad’s reach to the farthest corner of the arena, launching a seemingly endless barrage of spells and arrows.

Galahad seems to float just above the ground as he just dances out of reach, getting closer and closer. The elf feints, aiming for a shallow thrust, only for Galahad’s sweeping parry to pick up his blade and send it flying into the stands. The elf scrambles, attempting to put more distance between them, but Galahad’s hand shoots out and grabs him, magic burning at the knight’s fingertips.

Charlene smells the burning flesh before she hears the screams.

Galahad’s foot collides with the back of the elf, pushing the representative into the ground and literally grinding him underfoot. The tip of his sword presses up against the elf’s neck. Even as the elf writhes desperately on the earth for freedom, Galahad’s grip never once wavers. As the elf’s movements become smaller and weaker, Galahad whispers something quietly in the elf’s ear.

“I concede,” the Reynes Kingdom’s representative says at last, the elf’s pale skin flushed red and his silver eyes glaring daggers at the floor. “It’s your victory, knight”

“Good.” Galahad allows the elf to get up, offering him a hand. He gives the elf a very serene smile. “Let’s go over those terms.”

Merlin gives Charlene a small, little smirk. “You were worried?”

She glares at him. “ _Shut up_.”

—

—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an indulgent fic that I've had to modify and work around the new season of the Librarians and my schedule and my own headcannons. I like to think of Camelot as one of the pinnacle periods of magic, where magic was used often, hence why Jenkins understands it so well. It wouldn't be too far-fetched for Camelot to ally with the Library, since Merlin probably knew all about it and would use it as a storage facility for the more dangerous artifacts that Camelot found. 
> 
> Though, I hope we get to see Jenkins rules-lawyering more. That's always fun.
> 
> More acts to come! Hope you enjoyed this work so far! 
> 
> As always, feel free to drop a comment/criticism/thoughts in that box below! :D


	3. act II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which they somehow become friends

**scene i.**

For a knight, Charlene supposes, Galahad’s too soft during war and Galahad’s a little bit too indulgent during peacetime.

Charlene watches as the children clamber around him and on him. They’re all chattering away, trying to learn about one of his many exploits or another. Galahad beams at them all, humoring them with stories of his adventures and the like. Laughing, he pulls gifts out of midair and spars with each of them with wooden sticks.

“You look like you’re having fun,” Charlene notes in amusement, as Galahad manages to fenagle his way toward her, the children still dangling off him.

Galahad grins at her. “Want to join?”

“I’ll pass.” Coming to Camelot alone had been headache in it of itself. “Thanks.” Charlene adjusts the sleeve of the dress uncomfortably. “When will the negotiations begin again?”

“They’ll resume in fifteen.” Galahad’s eyes wander over to where the delegations are supposed to be _not_ arguing. Charlene hears the raised voices and the egos that are beginning to bruise. “I’ll go make sure things are okay.” He gives the children a rueful smile. “Sorry. Duty calls.”

“Aw…” Reluctantly, they all disentangle from him and return to the ground, giving both Galahad and Charlene a cheerful wave before scampering back into the castle.

“You’ll play with us next time, right?” A girl tugs on his leg.

He ruffles her hair, flashing her a brilliant smile. “Of course.”

Pleased, the girl runs off to join the rest of her friends.

Charlene gives him a pointed look. “Should I add heartbreaker to the names I have for you?”

“Boot-licker and Galahad are fine,” Galahad laughs, his cheeks coloring just a little.

Charlene joins him as he begins cutting a path through the milling delegation members until they finally find the location of all the noise. Someone evidently had the bright idea of opening a bottle of fay wine and most, if not, all the delegations (Camelot’s included) had drunk enough until they were red in the face. Two dragons are brawling over some territory dispute, Merlin’s chatting up an elvish sorceress, Arthur is leading a couple of representatives through a rambunctious drinking song, and Morgan le Fay and Lady Sililandria are laughing and joking in the corner, thick as thieves.

“I take it negotiations are not happening in fifteen?” Charlene asks, already regretting letting Judson talking her into taking this particular convention.

“Probably not.” Galahad sighs before giving her a smile. “You should enjoy yourself.”

“Boot-licker, I am an official representative of the Library.” Charlene glares at him. “I am not about to get drunk.”

—

—

She is _sooo_ drunk.

 _A lot_ of glasses of wine later and she’s as happy and exultant as the rest of them. Judson and the delegation can go take a hike, because Charlene is very single tonight! …or that’s just the alcohol talking. She’s not quite sure.

“I wanted to drink more, boot-licker!” Charlene protests as a very sober Galahad leads her through the castle and back to her guest room. “I do not have a bedtime!”

“Sorry, Guardian. The party’s over. Time to get to bed. We have a big day tomorrow.” The boy helps her to bed, urging her to drink a couple cups of water that she does reluctantly. “Good night, Guardian.”

“Hey.” Charlene drunkenly reaches out and grabs his hand before he can leave. “Why do you put up with me?” she slurs.

Galahad smiles, gently removing himself from her grip. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Maybe.” Charlene snuggles underneath the covers. “You’re still a boot-licker.”

The last thing she hears is his laughter before she falls asleep.

—

—

**scene ii.**

With another Librarian’s passing, Charlene feels so…old. Since the destruction of Alexandria, every thing seems to be a wheel that keeps on turning, the same old coming and going. The Librarian and the Guardians of the new age come and go, yet she and Judson remain.

Everything’s just…numb. Her eyes are covered with jade colored glass, and right now, it’s like there’s nothing but darkness and more of the same.

The worst part is that she can’t talk to Judson about this—because to him, he is the Library, heart, body, and soul. Charlene…isn’t like that. Not at all. (She became his Guardian because of _him_.)

“Hey.” Galahad knocks on the door of her working quarters.

She stares at him. “I thought the artifact drop wasn’t supposed to be for another month.”

“It’s not.” He gives her a bright smile. “It’s a… personal visit. Mind if I come in?”

“Please do.” Charlene gestures for him to sit down.

Galahad settles down, offering her a steaming beverage. “I’ve brought tea from the fay. Apparently, it’ll be big in a couple hundred years. It’s supposed to be a good comfort drink.”

Charlene takes a cautious sip, tasting the herbs and the flower flavor, before she looks at Galahad. “What are you really doing here?”

“Checking up on you.” Galahad tilts his head, his eyes tracing over her and the surroundings like it is a strategy. “How are you?”

“Well, I’m fine,” Charlene says, shuffling a few papers in front of her. “So you can leave now.”

“Are you sure?” Galahad asks quietly. A pause. “I miss him too,” he admits quietly.  

She thinks of all of the Librarians she has loved and lost and thinks of the only one who she will always guard for the rest of her immortal life. “I’m so tired of it all, sometimes,” she says quietly. “Sometimes, I just wish it would just…stop.”

Galahad reaches out to give her hand a squeeze. His hands are surprisingly warm. “I’ll make more tea.” He smiles, and she feels less alone.    

Wiping away the seemingly never-ending tears, she finds herself recounting Marcus’s blunders and triumphs and all the stupid things he used to do and all of the things she’ll miss. She tells him about Alexandria and Judson and their adventures.

Galahad listens to her the entire time.

—

—

He’s just about to leave when Charlene has to force herself to stop him.

“Galahad…” The message in her hand feels like it’s corroding her soul. (Because she doesn’t want this life for him, not at all.) “Catch.”

He nearly drops the scroll that is clearly addressed with his name on it. Galahad looks at her, and her heart breaks. “I’m sorry,” he says without a moment’s hesitation. “I can’t.” 

She thinks of the way she saw Galahad look at Morgan le Fay. “I know.”

He moves to return the invitation, but she shakes her head. “Once given, the invitation can’t be returned. It’s the rules.” She gives him a ghost of a smile. “We both know how much you love rules.”

Galahad keeps looking at her, as if waiting for permission like a sad puppy. She decides to throw him a bone.

“Just get rid of it then, boot-licker. I don’t care.”  

“Very well.” Magic gathers in his hands, igniting the invitation in an inferno. “I’m sorry, Charlene,” he tells her again.

They both watch as the scroll burn to ashes in his hands.

—

She never tells him how relieved she is.

—

—

“Travel well,” he tells her before he leaves. 

“Where would I be going, boot-licker?” Charlene rolls her eyes. “I’m the Guardian of this Library, remember?”

He grins. “I remember.”

—

—

**scene iii.**

When the Camelot delegation comes around, Charlene can’t help but linger in the doorway in hope of catching a glimpse of Galahad and thanking him for the tea he snuck into her desk. Instead, it’s only Merlin and a few knights that Charlene doesn’t recognize.

“Where’s Galahad?” she asks Merlin as they watch the knights unload the artifacts and technology. “Please tell me the boot-licker isn’t slacking off or…” Charlene trails off as she sees the odd expression on Merlin’s face.

“Charlene…” Merlin stares at her with the weight of a thousand ages upon his shoulders. “Galahad’s gone.” 

“Gone?” she echoes, wondering if this is all just a terrible joke.

“Gone,” Merlin repeats. “He’s dead.”

The world seems to stop. Galahad dead? _Galahad_? Charlene’s legs somehow feel very wobbly, and she somehow manages to find a chair. 

He died valiantly, according to Merlin, as the wizard begins to quietly recount the Grail Quest. Long story short, in the end, Galahad saved Sir Bors and Sir Percival as the cavern containing the Grail began to collapse, telling them to leave him behind and that he’d catch up later.

“There was no later,” Merlin whispers. “Idiot.”  

They never found the body. (There is victory in small mercies, she supposes.)

“What a fool.” Charlene covers eyes with her arm. She and Merlin both pretend they’re both fine behind their hands as they wipe the water away from their face. “Stupid, stupid boy.”

—

—

—

He was always a tragedy waiting to be written, she finally realizes, a character in a story living on already borrowed time.

Charlene never wanted to see the ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not gonna lie, a little disappointed with the direction of Season 4 regarding plotline, character's actions, and continuity... :(  
> So my reaction is: I'm going to write some fluff! 
> 
> I've always found it interesting that Charlene addressed Jenkins as Galahad, not Jenkins, hence why I think they had a pre-existing relationship before Jenkins joined the Library. It's interesting that Jenkins chose to introduce himself as Jenkins to the Librarians in general, especially considering that having an immortal knight of the round table is a great asset to have in peace and war. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!
> 
> As always, comments/opinions/remarks are always welcome! :D


	4. act III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which all is (finally) happy and good in the world

**scene i.**

A knock on her door makes her look up with annoyance. The current Librarian never once knocked and Judson knew he was welcome at any time and she’s beyond annoyed that someone managed to breach the Librarian’s defenses. “What are—” The anger evaporates as she sees the familiar smile and shining eyes.

His story was meant to be closed with the Holy Grail, but Charlene never once expected that there would be an epilogue.

“Hello, Guardian.” Galahad seems to be the same as ever, all kind smiles and gallant chivalry. He holds up a weighty chalice and gives her a broad grin. “Is there room in the Library for another artifact?”

Charlene struggles for words. “Galahad?” she breathes, rising up from her desk and beginning to cautiously bridge the gap between them. “But… you’re… you’re _dead_.”

“Well, I don’t feel dead,” he says teasingly. “You’ll have to wait until _after_ Lady Pendragon gives me a tongue lashing.” Galahad presses the artifact into her hands. Charlene can feel the heady thrum of power vibrating from the grail. 

“Galahad?” Galahad tilts his head, scrutinizing her carefully, worriedly. “You must have really missed me, if you didn’t call me boot-licker. Sorry, Guar—” She knocks the breath out of his chest as she hugs him, squeezing him tightly to reaffirm that it is him, that he is in fact flesh and bone and here and safe and still alive.

“Welcome back, Galahad,” Charlene murmurs. She loosens her grip on him, looking up at his eyes, still shining but there’s something….different, something darker. “What happened in those two years?”

“Oh, this and that.” He shrugs. “Nothing much.”

Charlene looks at Galahad’s face, and she wonders what he had to do to get this artifact, why he had to return after two years. His eyes reveal nothing except a burning desire to return home.

Charlene reaches out and gives his arm a squeeze. “Are you sure?”

“I’m fine.” His face darkens a little when he adds, “Just make sure no one drinks from the Grail.”

He doesn’t elaborate, and she’s afraid to pry.  

—

“Travel well,” Charlene murmurs as Galahad prepares to depart for Camelot. “Boot-licker,” she adds. That gets him to laugh, just a little. His eyes sparkle in amusement.

“Travel well,” he echoes before he and his horse disappear with the horizon. 

—

(Galahad’s slightly broken smile haunts her for quite some time.)

—

—

**scene ii.**

Since his return, Galahad’s visits become fewer and farther in between, but Merlin’s certainly aren’t. 

“He’s in high-demand,” Merlin sighs, rolling his eyes, as he and Tristan swing by with several rather dangerous artifacts in tow. “Guess that’s what happens when you’re the greatest knight in the world _and_ the Grail Knight.” Merlin reaches into his robes and hands her a scroll. “The boy told me to give you this though.”

Charlene opens it up, scanning through the message. “This is lot of effort to just say that he’s fine,” Charlene says with a frown. “I’m most certainly _not_ worried about the boot-licker that much.”

“Sure, sure.” Merlin holds up his palms in surrender. “No need to give me a reply or anything.” He smirks.

“Shut up.” Charlene scribbles a quick admonishment, though wishing Galahad the best and good fortune in the wars to come. She hurls the scroll at Merlin, conking him on the head with the message. “Make sure that gets to the boot-licker, will you?”

“I’ll do it when I see him.” Merlin winks. “Maybe.”

Charlene doesn’t even grace that comment with a response.

(But if Merlin gets ‘attacked’ by Nessie on the way out, Charlene has no idea how in the world that happened.)

—

—

—

**scene iii.**

Galahad has long since stopped coming by the Library, duty sending him every which way at Arthur’s behest. Still, Charlene finds little notes and updates randomly scattered throughout the Library, and Charlene recognizes that neat scrawl.

Putting things in random places is _her_ job, she thinks a little annoyed, as she finds a note tucked behind the globe behind her desk. It’s sweet of him to check up on her, but at this point, she’s far more interested to know how in the seven hell’s is the boot-licker is still getting in here. 

She writes a reply all the same.

—

Years pass and life goes on as usual.   

With the pixie problem of Camelot finally behind them, Morgan has somehow managed to drag both Judson and Charlene out of the Library to a local magical bar.

“The fate of the world isn’t hanging in the balance,” Morgan says at Charlene’s protests, flashing her a brilliant smile. “Enjoy yourselves for once.”

As much as Charlene wants to refuse—Morgan, after all, was supposedly one of the most evil magic users out there—Morgan hasn’t really done enough to warrant her distrust…or the rumors surrounding her, for that matter.

And if Galahad trusts her...

She hesitates. It’s enough for Judson to return to her side and give her his most winning smile.

“Come on.” He holds out a hand. “It’ll be relaxing.”

(It isn’t, but that’s beside the point.)

At the bar, one round of drinks later, and Merlin, Arthur, Tatiana, and Oberon eventually join them, ordering another round of fay wine. Judson’s hand rests on the small of Charlene’s back, and she feels the youngest she has in years, like in the old days in Alexandria.

Many, many glasses later, she and Judson are half-way recounting some exploit or another to the cheers and laughter of their friends, when Morgan’s face suddenly lights up and subtly moves away from the group.

“Galeas!” Morgan waves over the man who just walked into the bar. Galahad beams at her, navigating his way through the tables and patrons to return to her side. His eyes are outshining even the stars as he looks at her.

Morgan grins. “Welcome home, you fool.”

“I’m back, my lady.” He presses a quick kiss to her hand, their fingers briefly intertwining. There’s a glint that there causes Charlene’s eyes to squint, and through the drunken haze, Charlene just notices the ring of silver on Morgan’s hand and an identical ring of gold on Galahad’s.

(Charlene’s not drunk enough to not understand the significance of those rings according to fay custom, but she is sober enough to not call attention to it.)

Charlene can’t help but smile, intertwining her fingers with Judson.

—

After all these years, they’re still fools.

—

—

**scene iv.**

Charlene is going to _kill_ Judson when this is over. This is the **_last_** honest to god field mission she is going on while Judson plays babysitter to the newest Librarian.

Actually, this time.

She, Galahad, and Morgan are all trying to get into some nunnery for an artifact with little luck—as per usual. The nuns have been stone-walling her and Morgan for the past few minutes and she’s beginning to remember why she _loathes_ mortals every few decades or so.

“Any ideas?” Charlene whispers as one of the nuns goes on a rather interesting tangent on religion.

Morgan winks, signaling to Galahad, who’s standing just across the way. “Just play along.”

Galahad comes over to the two of them. “My fair lady, is everything all—” he cuts off, collapsing on the spot, moaning. Morgan is immediately by his side, checking his forehead and gasping quite dramatically.

She should have been an actress in another life, Charlene thinks dryly. (It takes all of her willpower not to laugh at the sight of the greatest witch the world the greatest knight in the world putting on the worst theatrical performance of this century.)

“You’re burning up, sweet knight! Why, you’re deathly ill!” Morgan’s eyes well with tears as Galahad gives a surprisingly convincing chest-rattling cough. “Sisters, will you not help him in this time of need! Please, I beseech to help one of your faithful flock!”

The nuns exchange concerned glances.

—

Fifteen minutes later, they’ve retrieved the artifact, kicked some major demon ass, and are on their merry way, having rescued Galahad from the infirmary and the clutches of the mother abbess there.

“Faithful flock?” Galahad snickers behind his hand as he and Morgan begin to escort Charlene back to the Library at their insistence. In the past, Charlene would almost reveled in this discovery of a new side to the Grail Knight, but she’s a little preoccupied at the present. “My great aunt’s probably rolling in her grave.”

Morgan sticks her tongue out at him. “We both know she doesn’t have one yet.”

He shrugs, grinning. “Well, if you keep saying things like that… You never know.”

“Unlike _someone_ , I—”

“Remind me to tell Judson to never go on an artifact hunt with both of you again,” Charlene interrupts, rubbing her temples. Her head feels like it’s splitting open. She gives them a very _pointed_ look. “You two still haven’t learned the meaning of _discretion_.”

—

That comment, at least, shuts both of them up for the entire return trip home.

—

—

—

—

Judson looks up from the tome he's pouring over, giving Charlene that same little, knowing smile that she fell in love with. His eyes flick to where both Galahad and Morgan are hovering by the door. "I thought you said you were never going artifact hunting with Morgan le Fay and Galahad again, Charlene," he says wryly.

Ushering the witch and the knight out of the Library, Charlene rolls her eyes and heads out with them, not even bothering to grace Judson with a proper response. His playful laughter rings in her ears, even after the Library's door closes. 

She can't help but smile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah.... My disappointment with the writing in Season 4 has reached new heights...or well, lows, especially after last night's episode. 
> 
> But that's why we always have fanfic! :D :D :D :D :D :D 
> 
> On the bright side, Dulaque being Jenkins' father is FINALLY canon. 
> 
> With all that negativity out of the way, yay for fluff! John Rodgers mentioned in a blog post that Morgan met Judson during a pixie problem, and I doubt people get to meet our OG Librarian without the OG Guardian far behind! Also, let's be real, it is very canon that Charlene is a shipper. That Guardian is the Captain of the SS Fleve as of the first episode. 
> 
> Camelot is such a fluffy place (before the fall anyway). It makes me want to send the Librarians back in time just to meet Young!Galahad and have a 0.0 reaction when they realize that Jenkins used to be a cinnamon bun and sweet. Classic fanfic plot, I suppose, but it would be kinda fun to write. Kinda need to finish this and the Rise and Fall first lol. Working on that still still-- trying to ensure established continuity continues and not making anyone too OP and balancing screentime is hard :( 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!
> 
> As always, comments/opinions/remarks are always welcome! :D


	5. act IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which their choices seal their fate

**scene i.**

“Swords may win battles, but magic wins a,” Galahad had once said solemnly, almost prophetically, “and war is coming.”

The magical wars of Europe have begun.

There is only more death and more destruction. It is kingdom against kingdom, city against empire, empire against kingdom, and tribes against all of them, a chaotic swirl of absolute madness in which all are fighting for retributions for a slight that no one even remembers.

In the ensuing turmoil, Charlene finds her thoughts drifting to Camelot more than is appropriate for a Guardian of the very neutral Library. 

It’s been years since Galahad has personally come by the Library, a few months since she’s last heard from him at all. She hears from passing minstrels all about his exploits, ranging from the potentially believable to the absolutely _ludicrous_. (There is no way in all of the seven hells that Galahad would ever make a dragon laugh fire—for the love of the Library, the man couldn’t even _act_.)

She doesn’t see him again until there is a celebration for the peace brokered between the Fae Legion and Iron Kingdom, thanks in no small part to the Library and Camelot’s timely intervention. For a brief moment in time, there’s finally some semblance of peace. She and Judson had been forcibly dragged out of the Library by the current Librarian for the festivities.

Shooting her a very resigned smile, Judson had gone off with the Librarian a few minutes ago to go socialize and make nice. (Two things that Charlene is very much not a fan of doing at the moment, after dealing with the Fae Legion and the Iron Kingdom’s bullshit for the past month and a half.)

She’s much happier nursing her drink in the corner of the room alone, until she catches a glimpse of a familiar face moving swiftly through the crowd. “Boot-licker!” she calls, beckoning him to join her.

Galahad finds her waving in the crowd, his face bursting into a brilliant smile. “Charlene!” He’s by her side in an instant. “How are you?”

“Much better now that the negotiations are over.” Charlene takes a _very_ long sip of her fay wine.

“I’m sure,” he laughs. “Lady Sililandria mentioned that you were exasperated by the end of it all. Excellent work with the treaty.”

Charlene harumphs good-naturedly. “And you?”

No matter how hard he tries, his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m fine.” 

“I see…” Narrowing her eyes, Charlene scrutinizes him more closely. The bags under his eyes are more pronounced, but the determined flames in his eyes stubbornly refuse to burn out. A red traveling cloak drapes over his shoulders, the golden Pendragon dragon on the back contrasting with the silver of his armor underneath. “Where are you heading off to?”

“The frontlines.” Galahad pulls his cloak around himself more tightly. “We still have wars to win.”

Charlene frowns. “I thought the war was over.”

“It’s _never_ over.” There’s a cold distance in his voice, darker, deeper. The mask of the perfect, smiling knight cracks ever so slightly, but the darkness that leaked out evaporates as soon as he returns her concerned gaze, banishing the shadows with a reassuring, easy grin. “Travel well, Guardian.”

Charlene reaches out to grab his arm. “You should stay,” she finds herself saying, the words slipping out before she can stop them. “Let Lancelot take care of whatever mess he’s left you to clean up. Take a break.”

His lips twist into a pained smile. “Unfortunately, duty calls,” he says hollowly, “and big or small, we must do our duty.”

Galahad vanishes into the crowd before she can even properly say goodbye.

—

—

**scene ii.**

The fragile peace doesn’t last for long. (It never does.)

Merlin disappears. Wild magic escalates

The Library is scrambling. There are more artifacts popping up day by day and they do not have the manpower to protect them all from untried and evil hands.

Even the Gods are beginning to move, striking up deals and bargains with mortals and immortals alike. Half the time, she doesn’t even know who’s _alive_ anymore. (One day, they’ll be rumored to be dead; the next day, they’ll pop back up fine and dandy. A few days later, they’ll be gone forever, just like that.)

It will be a wonder if the world is still standing after this century as magic threatens to tear this world apart.

The Library needs more people, she realizes with a sinking feeling in her stomach. They need Librarians, not just a Librarian.

And lo and behold, Librarians come in the form of two identical twin brothers as if by Fate. Balthus and Zharradan. The greatest minds of their age with identical intellect and outlook.

They’re almost too good to be true.

 _(Many are called out,_ the Library whispers in their ears _, but only one is chosen.)_

Both she and Judson have reached an impasse fraught with doubt and uncertainty. There are _rules_ for a reason, but in desperate times…

So they table the discussion—if at least, until they talk it out first. Judson goes off soul-searching with Odin and Thor while Charlene traverses down to Greece to speak to Athena and Apollo before circling back around what would become Europe to discuss matters with Freya.

Athena had offered strategy for the coming war and Ragnarok, reminding Charlene “ _You always have a choice.”_ Apollo had only given her terrible poetry. _(“Sorry, Guardian,”_ he had said remorsefully. _“The future’s a little dark right now… Ask later. …oh hey, that was a haiku!”_ )

Unlike the other two immortals, Freya merely shrugs.

Charlene tries again. “But the rules and the traditions and—”

The Norse Goddess cuts her off with a grand gesture toward the fjord below. “In the scheme of things, Guardian, does it matter? Fate is Fate is Fate. It has already been woven into the loom.” Her eyes are sad as she continues, “I look forward to meeting the warriors that will join me in Fólkvangr.”

Charlene can only watch thank Freya for her (unhelpful) counsel before the Norse Goddess rides off to what looks to be a battle far off into distance. There is a stillness, a quiet calm before the raging storm, then she can hear the war cries of the frost giants before a flash of light envelopes the area. 

She recognizes that magic anywhere.

Heart hammering out of her chest, Charlene begins to move rapidly in that direction.

—

—

By the time she gets there, Camelot’s forces have emerged victorious, and all that’s left of the frost giants are ashes and dust. Charlene finds herself swept up in the flurry of Camelot’s army as the soldiers—knights and witches and wizards alike—all scramble around to prepare for a rapid transition. A few of them give her a polite greeting and a wave, while Elaine the archer (not Elaine of Astolet or Elaine of Corbenic as Elaine liked to tell Charlene repeatedly) points Charlene in the direction of the general.

Charlene finds Galahad overseeing the operation with Mordred by his side. The boy, by the looks of it, is attempting to convince Galahad of something and not doing a good job at all. However, Galahad must have said something to soothe the boy’s pride or ego because the boy walks over to Bedivere’s side without further complaint. (Still, Charlene still catches Mordred giving Galahad a few concerned looks when the boy thinks Galahad isn’t looking.)

“You should relax a little, boot-licker,” Charlene says as she approaches Galahad. “You look like you’re still on the battlefield.”

“Well, one can always do battle—whether it be with swords or words.” He looks less and less like a knight and more and more like a battle hardened general, once shining eyes dulled with loss and war, his shoulders weighted down by armor and duty and the fate of the kingdom. “What can I do for you?” he asks dryly. “Surely this isn’t a social call.”

“Do you have time?” she asks, gesturing down to the rapidly moving army. “I don’t want to—” 

“Of course, I have time. What kind of question is that?” The formalities of the Library and of his position drop once again. “We have an hour before we move out.”  Galahad gives her a smile that reminds her of the boy he used to be. “I’ll make tea, Charlene.”

—

—

She tells him about _everything_ , launching into the pros and cons and traditions and rules and everything and anything in between. At the end of it all, Charlene turns to look at the man.

“What do you think, boot-licker?”

He takes a long sip of tea. “I think…” he says slowly, carefully, “that some rules are meant to be broken.”

Charlene frowns. “What does that mean?”

Galahad shrugs, looking back at the burning remains of the battlefield. “Whatever you want it to, Charlene.”

—

—

The two Librarians are welcomed the very next day.

—

The Library rumbles. Charlene can’t quite tell if it’s in approval.

—

—

**scene iii.**

Zharradan and Balthus are still arguing over the proper usage of magic and the Library, of the possibilities of letting normal mortals access the catalogs of the Library.

…they’ve been doing it for _hours_.

(This hasn’t been the first time; this is an argument that seems to be moving in perpetual motion, around, around again.)

“We are letting innocent people die when we could _save_ them!” Balthus argues. “With magic and the Library, we can build a Utopia, the likes of which that have never been seen!”

“We are supposed to maintain balance!” Zharradan snaps. “What you are proposing is not the duty of the Librarian!”

“But we could make it so!” Balthus says with stars in his eyes, turning his attention to the knight stalking toward the bookshelves. “What do you think, Sir Galahad?”

Galahad glares at the both of them. He had come bearing artifacts from Camelot and hadn’t once stopped moving since his arrival weeks ago after being ordered to stay there and compile a catalog of some sort for Camelot. “You are both Librarians, and your duty is to protect the Library, not squabble over it like some petty children!” His answer is a predatory snarl, indicative of a caged beast desperately wanting to go free.

That at least silences both of them, and they both have the decency to look at least a little contrite.

She and Judson exchange concerned glances. (And briefly, Charlene wonders if it was a mistake to take both of them.)

—

—

“Something’s wrong.”

For the first time in weeks, Galahad is completely still, fear rolling off him like frozen gas, the darkness threatening to consumer his very being.  He moves to the door, preparing to depart, only to find Judson standing in his way.

“Stand aside, Judson!” he says, his voice smoking with fury. The boy is finally gone, dead and buried, and she doesn’t know the man who has replaced him. “I have to go back.”

“You had orders to remain here.” Judson levels a glare colder than a frost giant’s winter storm. “ _Morgan_ told me so. You must stay—the Library needs you!”

Galahad matches his stare. “I don’t care!” He seethes. Power is instinctively drawn to his fear and his fury, as the very ground around him begins to burn. “Stand aside!”

“No.” Judson juts out his chin, squaring himself and bracing for impact. Charlene activates the wards surrounding the Library preventing anyone from going in or out. “You know as well as I do that It is your duty to stay!”

“Duty?” Galahad’s lips peel off his teeth, his eyes full of flame. “Don’t you dare speak to me of duty, Librarian!”

Galahad makes a fist, and suddenly, Judson seizes, frozen in midair, as invisible, serpentine-like forces begin to pull him into their embrace. Judson sputters for breath, hands clawing at the nothingness strangling him, his feet dangling helplessly.

Charlene tries to rush forward, only to find herself and the other two Librarians frozen in place, straining against invisible bonds.

“Galahad, please….” Charlene manages to croak, even as his magic begins to tighten painfully around her. “Big or small, we must do our duty.”

He freezes.

Galahad lets his now unclenched hand fall to his side, dropping Judson unceremoniously to the ground. Judson falls to his knees, heaving for breath, clutching his throat. Charlene can suddenly move again. She chooses to race to Judson’s side, examining the elderly Librarian for injuries—only to find none.

She looks back to find Galahad smiling sadly down at them.

“Love is the death of duty,” Galahad says softly, his eyes roving between Charlene and Judson, “and we are encouraged to love, are we not?”

Galahad’s palm rests against the door, shattering the wards that prevent him from leaving.

He gives them all one last rueful look. “I’m sorry.”

The Library doors close with a slam.

—

—

She doesn’t know the details of what happened. (Bedivere never said, Excalibur won’t tell her, and there’s no one else left of the once shining kingdom to let her know.)

All she knows is that Camelot burns.

As the smoke clears, Galahad is long gone.

—

—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're happy and you know it clap your hands.... That's right, it should be silent...if I wrote this right. If not, welp, looks like I have to go back to the drawing board. Since S5 is never happening (insert very, very frustrated face here), thought I'd use my last days of free time to try to finish up these fics. ...wish me luck. 
> 
> It was really interesting to explore this kind of relationship between Galahad and Charlene, esp. given their later interactions. Charlene, in my opinion, still sees Galahad as a kid, but even she knows that Galahad is not okay. Dude needs a hug after fighting and fighting and fighting because if he doesn't fight, lots of people are going to die. PostGrail!Galahad feels as if it's his duty as both the Grail Knight and the greatest knight in the world to step up and bring hope by defeating the impossible. For him the decision is mass casualties of other knights, witches, wizards, and civilians and lots of time wasted fighting on multiple fronts vs. forcing him to do lots and lots of battles with fewer casualties. ...I think the choice is clear. It'll be fun to explore that in the Rise and Fall, which is still being edited and looked for since my cpu crashed and I basically lost most of the draft... :(
> 
> I think it's fun exploring this version of Camelot's fall, since (in my opinion) it probably was due to a combination of Fate, hubris, and lots and lots of fear over their magical supremacy, thanks in part to the rapid advancement and utilizing magic to create a military advantage over other kingdoms. The overuse of magic in Camelot would naturally cause Jenkins to be quite averse to using it because it creates a magical arms race that ends with many, many wars. 
> 
> I think it would have been interesting to re-visit the Use Magic vs. Don't Use Magic in S4, particularly since that would be an interesting point if that was why the Library Civil War happened. The path to hell hath good intentions, after all. The Library Civil War would have been a good ep and could have drawn parallels to S3's running theme. Balthus is like a mini, more extremist version of the Lake and Cassandra in my headcannon. It also would explain why Jenkins is so salty during Cost of Education. 
> 
> Anyway, trying to set up the Jenkins vs. Judson stuff for later is always fun. It's a nice throw back to Librarians S1 during the Apple of Discord Ep. since Jenkins' claim that he chose a side in a very complicated matter.... many times. The first was choosing to return from the Holy Grail Quest (and thus defying Fate). The second was choosing his loved ones over the Library... which still didn't save Camelot and allowed the Library Civil War. 
> 
> TBH, if I were Judson I'd be just a little salty over this. Just a little. (The entire strangling bit probably didn't help matters much.) 
> 
> That being said, I think it's interesting to see the choices between loved ones vs. duty. Galahad chooses his loved ones over his duties and his honor by sacrificing them both to protect them. For Galahad, I think the order is: Love Ones > Duty > Honor. Meanwhile, Judson and Charlene flip-flop on the issue. They choose to sacrifice the Library in S1 out of duty, but in this instance, when they're younger, I think they would choose love, hence why Charlene prioritizes Judson over stopping Galahad. While you could argue that it is her duty as a Guardian to do so, she's definitely not doing that out of said duty. 
> 
> Also, for reference, Bedivere is the knight that is supposed to "return" Excalibur to the Lake. In this version, he gave it to the Library. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!
> 
> As always, comments/opinions/remarks are always welcome! :D


End file.
